


sunday best

by fluffysocks



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysocks/pseuds/fluffysocks
Summary: Bucky fled the scene before he could embarrass himself any more. Sam was the worst. On a Sunday, no less.





	sunday best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yawpkatsi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yawpkatsi/gifts).



Sam was terrible. Maybe having to keep jumping into the thick of things was a permanent defect for all Captain Americas? He was back at work. Three days after he got back from his mission. Doing paperwork. On a Sunday. Every part of Bucky wanted to reject that whole scenario, starting at the fact that Sam had been at work since before the sun even came up.

Which he knew, because Steve had dropped by to mope about having to go on his morning run alone, left a sweat stain on Bucky’s kitchen chair, and drank straight from Bucky’s milk carton. The bastard.

Bucky looked down at himself. Well, he thought. At least my hair is clean. He was wearing sweatpants, a hoodie, and one of Steve’s more paint-splattered tee-shirts. Well, and the belt for Fubar’s leash. An outfit suitable for his original plan, which had been to shuffle around the park hoping the fresh air would wake up his brain. Trying to recover from Steve’s early visit.

He was not dressed to impress, so swinging by Sam’s work to see him was probably a bad plan. But Sam wasn’t looking so hot himself, not after swooping around Sokovia for a week with people shooting at him and his lotions all stateside.

“All right,” he told Fubar. “Let’s get Sam some coffee. He probably needs it.”

The barista didn’t even blink at his getup, or for that matter at the ridiculous coffee order Sam liked. Bucky emerged victorious, Fubar carrying a bag with a slice of the apple-pecan, and Bucky carefully balancing the drink holder. He finished his own coffee on the walk to the VA.

He stopped, looking up at the building from across the street. He should have texted Sam first. Maybe he’d brought his own lunch. Maybe he didn’t even want to see Bucky at--

Fubar pressed against Bucky’s legs, his tail thumping into his calves gently. “I think I had that one - but thanks, pal,” he murmured. He kind of wanted to lean down and scratch Fubar behind one of his big, soft floppy ears, but his hand was full. “You’re right though. Sam’s working on a Sunday. Of course he wants coffee.”

Bucky sighed, rolled his shoulder and checked for cars before crossing the street. Fubar trotted along, back to busily scanning the environment now that Bucky wasn’t having a crisis on the damn sidewalk anymore.

“Don’t think we’ll find any more surprise friends,” Bucky said. If you could consider Alpine a friend - he’d made himself at home on Fubar’s dog bed. It was kind of heartbreaking, so Fubar had been sleeping in Bucky’s bed even though he didn’t really need to this week. Bucky’d washed his sheets three times, and he hadn’t even had anyone over.

Bucky bumped the opener for the center’s front door with his hip, and they went in.

Denise was at reception, and Bucky smiled at her, kind of raising the remaining coffee and bakery bag clutched in his hand. Couldn’t exactly wave. She was focused on her work though, scowling. Bucky couldn’t fault her. If Steve wasn’t an unnatural creature, he wouldn’t be awake and running around outside either.

He wandered down the hall towards the stairs, and the offices beyond.

Sam wasn’t full time any more. Couldn’t be, not with the whole Captain America thing. So he was squeezed into some kind of former storage room at the very end of the upstairs hall. Bucky leaned in the doorway for a moment, just looking at him.

Sam had two small towers of paperwork in front of him, and his work laptop was open, one hand resting on the mouse and one taking quick notes in the file. His shirt was open at the throat, showing his plain tee underneath. It should not have done a damn thing for Bucky. The future was full of shirtless guys. He’d seen Steve and Sam shirtless just a few days ago. Also with their. Shoulders. And arms. And everything.

Which. Sam’s shirtsleeves were rolled up - to his forearms. Right, Sam had been flying on that mission.

“Hiding your ashy elbows?”

Sam jumped and glared at him, but it softened when he spotted Bucky’s offerings. “We can’t all be naturally greasy like you.”

Bucky grinned, and went over to put the goodies down on the edge of Sam’s desk - well clear of the files. He leaned over, and Sam tipped his head up for a quick kiss. “That greasiness is what makes me such a good masseuse.”

“You’re disgusting,” Sam said. But he reached for the coffee, and let out a noise that Bucky usually only heard in an entirely different context. “I can’t believe Denise didn’t jump you for this when you came in. Coffee-maker’s broken.”

“Again?”

Sam took another very long sip, and then let out the kind of deep sigh only the truly under-caffeinated could produce. “Again.”

Bucky leaned on the edge of the desk while Sam sipped. He could see Sam relaxing by increments - his brow smoothing out, his jaw softening, his shoulders lowering ever so slightly. He looked good. There was something about seeing him like this - ordinary, tired and a little disgruntled.

Bucky realised he was staring. He felt heat creep into his face, looked away and then back. Their eyes met. Sam was blushing too. “Sorry,” Bucky muttered. “Just.”

He gestured at Sam, which was not helpful. So Bucky leaned over the desk again. It was basically Steve’s and Sam’s motto: A good offense is a good defense. Sam’s lips were still a little chapped from flying, and his beard not as neatly trimmed as usual. Bucky cupped Sam’s jaw, rubbed his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone, left himself feel how warm and alive Sam was.

He shifted a little to rest his forehead against Sam’s - made quick eye contact. Steve sure had a thing for people with beautiful brown eyes, and Bucky couldn’t fault his taste even a little.

When they pulled apart, Sam was smiling. The little gap between his teeth was just showing, and he looked so soft and so handsome that Bucky felt like he’d been smacked in the face with the shield. Bucky’s face was on fire. Time to exfil.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll go check out that coffee maker.” He would have fallen over Fubar too, if Fubar hadn’t been too well trained to let him.

He ducked into the storage room across the hall. The tool kit was in there - he’d probably need it to fix that coffee maker, right? It was probably the thermostat again. He shut the door behind himself and dove face first into Fubar’s ruff and did a few of the breathing exercises his therapist had recommended. Probably not for the particular situation of his boyfriend being too radiant for mortals to behold, but they worked anyhow.

It took him a moment to gather everything he would need, including a few tattered bits of dignity. He still used his training to duck past Sam’s door without being spotted though, and snuck to the break room.

There wasn’t even anyone there. The only sound was the slow dripping of wet grounds and occasional gurgling from the coffee maker. Bucky frowned down at it, where it sat on a dishtowel by the sink. He looked down at himself. Well, at least he wasn’t in his Sunday best. And Sam would probably need more than the one coffee given the size of that stack of paperwork.

Bucky grinned down at Fubar. “Help me balance this, huh pal?”

Fubar boofed.

An hour later, Bucky wandered back to Sam’s office. He’d already delivered tribute (black, three sugars) to Denise, who hadn’t even commented on the various new and exciting stains he was now covered in. Bucky’d had to hold the machine in his lap while digging around in its guts to actually actually get the leak fixed - if he didn’t do it properly, it would just fry the thermostat again.

The pie had disappeared while Bucky was working on reinstituting the flow of coffee, and Sam seemed to be in a much better mood, buoyed by caffeine and carbs. Bucky grinned - it had been the right call to visit him.

“My Sunday best didn’t make it,” Bucky said, just to See the corner of Sam’s mouth and his eyebrow twitch up a little. “Anyway, I better head home and throw this in the wash before it settles in. But if you wanna come by tonight, Nat brought over some new bubble bath.”

In response, Sam just did the thing with his eyebrows.

Bucky fled the scene before he could embarrass himself any more. Sam was the worst. On a Sunday, no less.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Corrections & feedback appreciated. :)


End file.
